


In the Palm of Your Hand Flutters My Breath

by matan4il



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Aaron chest appreciation, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Paramedic - Freeform, Robert hands appreciation, cystic fibrosis, physiotherapist, respiratory physiotherapist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 10:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18754384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matan4il/pseuds/matan4il
Summary: But Robert's fingers are scorching fire into Aaron's chest, ironically making it harder and harder to breathe. Even through his shirt, it’s impossible not to feel the heat of those long, nimble digits, the confident press of the large, capable palms and God help him, but instinctively Aaron wants those hands on him in all the wrong ways.Aaron’s cystic fibrosis (CF) is getting worse and he urgently needs respiratory physiotherapy.Dear Vix, happy Valentine’s! I was deliberating which story to write for you and eventually decided to go with one that will involve Aaron’s chest and Robert’s hands. I hope you enjoy it!Inspired by a real story.





	In the Palm of Your Hand Flutters My Breath

But Robert's fingers are scorching fire into Aaron's chest, ironically making it harder and harder to breathe. Even through his shirt, it’s impossible not to feel the heat of those long, nimble digits, the confident press of the large, capable palms and God help him, but instinctively Aaron wants those hands on him in all the wrong ways.

 _God help him_. If only. If God would have been willing to help him, Aaron wouldn't have had to figure out what to do about any of this shite in the first place. Being born with cystic fibrosis sucked and he wasn't willing to be the poster boy who'd smile for the comfort of others and quote to people some optimistic slogan that would make them feel better about their own unjustified good fortune, nor marvel at how much better modern medicine is at dealing with CF nowadays compared with even just twenty years ago. He was even too angry to praise the god who had allowed him to live long enough to experience this progress in comparison with his childhood. It was true, there have been enormous strides that were made in the treatment of his condition as he could personally testify. But that had little to do with any deity, real or imaginary, and none of it was going to wipe away the terror this disease had inflicted on Aaron during his early and teenage years. It had forced him to grow up with the constant fear of dying, knowing every one of his days was a fateful toss of dice. It inflicted on him too many nights of waking up alone and in the dark, desperately gasping for air.

He was asked more than once to play precisely that role. Several times, reporters have tried to stick him in front of a camera and get him to gush and be brave and grateful and inspiring, all the things that good poster boys were meant to be. Content, despite everything, for the feel good benefit of the viewers. Fat chance. Aaron knew he was a worthy news story, that he made a photogenic, intriguing headline even in a relatively small community of people suffering from a rare and potentially fatal from a young age disease. But he never learned how to smile for anyone like a trained monkey, regardless of the presence of cameras, and he had no desire to, either. He always refused to play along when a news team would contact him and the journalists always settled for interviewing a more cooperative CF patient. 

He also refused to get a respiratory physiotherapist. He could make due without the added annoyance of hippy, new age bollocks. He'd been doing just fine so far, thanks. Doctors kept suggesting it and he kept refusing, proving them wrong with each morning of being alive and still breathing, as strenuous as that sometimes proved to be. He saw no reason why he couldn’t go on doing exactly what he has been and if it worked so far, it would continue to. Or so he insisted again, when his doctor made it abundantly clear: he's running out of time. “You really are, Aaron,” Doctor Jutla repeated herself for emphasis, her voice too calm to betray her concern, but her care coming through all the same. She’s known him for so long and he liked her for never acting like her word was divine law. Some doctors took his refusal to sometimes cooperate with their instructions as an offense against their person and the balance of the cosmos would surely strike him down for that. It was their way or he was lost. Dr. Jutla, Manpreet as she insisted he call her, was never like that. She would always speak to him and deliver her conclusions calmly, but never coldly, even when he was no doubt proving to be the most stubborn of her patients. She would hear him out, lay out her rationale and at the end of the day, do her best to assist him with whatever choice he was sticking with. If she had suddenly turned insistent, detailing the reasons that brought her to the conclusion he could no longer avoid daily sessions of respiratory physiotherapy, Aaron knew it must have been true. The coughing, she reminded him, was getting increasingly worse. The medications were not as effective in helping him as they used to be. The inhalation sessions were a bit more efficient, but they weren't enough without physiotherapy exercises to accompany them and the ones he'd been doing independently were limited in how much they could help since he couldn't perform them on himself while simultaneously using the inhaler. “Aaron,” she said with a determined tone, but not the berating one he used to get from the doctors he had before her, “you’re gonna have to accept this help”. More than anything else in that moment, what he wasn’t prepared for was how instantly he found himself believing her.

A lot of people might think a chronic patient is supposed to be accustomed to any demand imposed on them by their illness, but the idea of agreeing to getting help from a stranger invading the privacy of his own home was a new and foreign concept to Aaron. He might have been born sick, he might never have known what it meant to lead a normal, healthy life, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t also a damn proud man and as fiercely independent as anyone with his condition could hope to be. Then again, he had to become independent early on. After all, no one really helped him all that much when he was growing up. Forget the wretched disease, nobody prepared Aaron for life. It just happened to him, out of the blue and all too soon, as the adults in his life were too busy screwing up theirs. 

His dad was the first link in the chain to break, having walked out on Aaron and Chas as soon as the reality of cystic fibrosis and the condition’s incurability became clear. His mum wasn't much better, pawning Aaron off on her uncle and his wife as soon as she could. Lisa and Zak were alright in their way, but they had their own problems, with quite a few challenging family members to take care of, an unexpected newborn of their own, a whole bunch of pigs to raise for their living and the occasional crazy plan from Zak meant to make things better and usually resulting in additional problems that had to be resolved. They simply didn’t have the time and energy required to look after Aaron or to note that he was struggling with more than oxygen intake. 

He held on, tooth and nail, powered through everything that troubled him, physically or otherwise, like a bull charging ahead because there was no other choice. He didn’t have much generosity left in him after that, though. By the time Chas returned a few years down the line, there was little for her to appeal to when she swore that she wanted to make amends and be present in his life again. It was a short while after the end of another one of her doomed romances and she was begging for a second chance to be a good mother. It was something he was secretly dreaming of the entire time, in a part of his heart that he had closed off and denied even to himself. That she would regret her horrible mistake, proving he wasn’t so easy to abandon, like she had made him feel. He wanted this so badly and there was some tinge of victory to it, but not as much as he thought there would be. That tiny bit of triumph didn’t fix years of hurt. It didn’t guarantee he could trust her now. It couldn’t change the hardened young man he had become. On a more basic level, the truth he discovered in this conversation with her was that nobody teaches an angry kid how to forgive and move on, not even when a part of him wanted to. He was still in his teens and madder at the whole world than he could express and at her most of all. He left Chas sitting alone in the cafe in which he had agreed to meet her, too upset at the knowledge he was once more going to be denied a mother’s love, because he just couldn’t accept her back as easily as she seemed to find walking in and out of his life to be.

As it turned out, Lisa thankfully intervened after that. First she encouraged Chas not to give up and to put in the work of being there for Aaron even when he rejected her. Earn his trust back by proving the sincerity of her statements. Later, when he wasn’t giving way, Lisa also talked to him, pointing out that his mum was a teenager herself when she had him and was even younger than him, all alone without the man who was supposed to be there and help her with the challenges of raising a child, especially one with a serious ailment. Men were always her problem, Aaron angrily spat out having heard Zak talk of her exploits enough over the missing years, and for a second he resented Chas even more for how she had always looked to them as if they were her solution. But then that night he tried to imagine what would he have done if he were in his mum’s situation. He didn’t think he would have walked away like she did, he would have struggled through that as well, but for a brief instant he could imagine just how lost and overwhelmed she must have felt. It didn’t make any of it right, but it helped him understand a little more and he ended up agreeing to her coming round to Wishing Well. She did make an effort, like she had promised him and Lisa, though it was clear at first that she was struggling with how awkward things were between them. But she was consistent and even though he didn’t say it, he appreciated that. A few visits in and some things started creeping their way back to the surface, memories and sentiments that made way for banter and allowed them to be more at ease with each other. Weirdly enough, when Chas started dating another man, it actually helped instead of making matters worse. Probably because Aaron got to see she wasn’t relying on the poor sod to solve all her problems and she wasn’t looking to him for financial help. Paddy was a vet, so he wasn’t making that much to begin with. How anyone gave that stuttering blob of nerves permission to treat any living creature though, human or not, was a mystery to Aaron. But every so often, they found themselves discussing interesting things like dogs and medicine. Paddy never seemed to look down on him as feeble-minded or incapable because of the CF, like some have. When he wasn’t making terribly lame jokes, the bloke was sort of alright, especially since he treated Chas well and respectfully. After a few months of dating, he even suggested the two of them move in with him and for a second there, Aaron thought to himself, _home_. He knew it would never be quite that, Chas has left too much of a scar for him to be able to feel that with her and so he intended to move out into his own place as soon as he could, but it was a nice thought all the same.

Not that any of the progress Aaron made with his mum helped when it came to his social life. He had become too rude and grumpy for most of his schoolmates’ liking pretty early on, not exactly what they expected from a poor, sickly kid. He knew he would have gotten more sympathy from them if he had played that part, but he wasn’t interested in their pity anyway. Instead, most just kept their distance and on occasion, he’d even get a remark about him milking his condition, since he got to miss more classes than the rest of them. It only served to prove him right in keeping his prickly attitude towards them up. One exception was Adam, who came by one day with his dad when John brought in a sick, newly birthed lamb he needed Paddy to urgently examine on a Sunday morning. Adam started asking questions and appeared undeterred by Aaron’s curt answers. Instead of being put off by either the rudeness or the disease, he came across as intrigued. He kept coming by daily, pestering Aaron, but once when he had a cold and stayed at the farm, he was also weirdly missed. Annoying as he was, Aaron had to resentfully admit to himself that somehow he got stuck with a farm boy for a friend.

Coming out as gay when also living with CF was, in a sense, both harder and easier than Aaron imagined it would have been if he were healthy. At least, as much as he could judge based on some movies he happened to catch on TV. Those young gay people on his telly screen, with their lively social circles, they were always presented as figuring all of it out by means of drama. That wasn’t the case for him. Magazines, shows and films supplied him with enough images of good looking men and women for him to find it pretty easy to tell which ones he fancied. Adam also helped in a way when he started coming round with this Scarlet girl that he liked. Aaron quickly realised that if he would have wanted to date only one of them, then even though Scarlet was pretty enough and despite his friend’s many glaring flaws, it would have been Adam. Maybe it was the threat of death hanging over Aaron’s head, present in every breath. He didn’t have time to be dishonest with himself when it came to matters like figuring out what, or who, he liked. Another thing that was less challenging for him was the prospect of telling his mum and Paddy, at least in one sense. Most parents, even if they were sworn homophobes, wouldn’t openly reject their gay child if that son or daughter also happened to have a terminal disease. Gloomily, however, unlike most other young people coming to terms with a different sexual orientation, he already had the experience of having parents who had rejected him for the way he was born. If Chas and Paddy turned out to have some major issue with homosexuality, he could expect even less empathy from them and a harsher reaction than for unwittingly being born with an incurable disease. He’d particularly find himself unable to cope whenever he tried to map out what a response from Chas might be like. He would then struggle to breathe in a whole different way. Even if things didn’t turn out quite like the worst possible case, well... a lack of rejection was still not the same as being accepted and truth be told, he craved having the latter. In a way, he wanted that more than he might have precisely because his mum had walked out on him once before, when she had felt that he was too much for her to handle. For once, he needed her to be sincerely and completely alright with who he was, much as he knew the odds for that were flimsy at best. 

That was probably why despite not planning to, he ended up telling Paddy first. Or not quite telling, so much as Aaron nodded quietly in response to a question, blinking away his tears before they can become too noticeable. Spur of the moment courage drove him to inform Paddy one evening that they needed to talk, but as soon as Aaron did that, he already felt drained by the task at hand. When it was clear that he wasn’t able to follow up on his initial request to talk, it was Paddy who guessed correctly what was weighing down on him and asked if he felt that he liked boys. That was the point of no return and Aaron couldn’t bring himself to lie, so he simply nodded. “Well, tha-that’s alright then,” was the stuttered, but reassuring response. “Nothing’s changed. And I want you to know, I’m not worried about you. I mean, I’m, I’m sure my life would have actually been so much easier if I could have dated Marlon..." Paddy’s attempt at hilarity trailed off with that silly giggle he always let out whenever he thought he was being genuinely funny and Aaron groaned at him in both annoyance and relief. Stupid, lame jokes. Stupid, wonderful Paddy.

That exchange turned out to help Aaron with his coming out to Chas more than he initially thought it would. As he later discovered, his bumbling, loving fool of a dad had started dropping hints for her to understand that there was something very serious she needed to discuss with her son. His mum decided to take him to a fair. “No, no arguing, love, it’s for all those times I didn’t get to take you to one when you were younger,” she said while they were sat there on a bench, between one ride and the next, licking ice cream from a cone and after he had just thanked her for this day. The experience they were having wasn’t quite as nice as his fondest childhood memory of that time they had gone to the beach together, the last day that they had gotten to spend together before she walked away. Nothing would ever be that nice again, he has come to accept that since he would never again be as innocent as he was back then. Still, this visit together to the fair was perhaps the nicest thing they got to share since she had returned. After all, it was already more than what he could have dared imagine for quite a few years that he might one day get to have with her. Catching melted drops of ice cream before they had the chance to sully his clothes, he wanted to tell her right then and there what has been on his mind, but couldn’t help the fear that if she didn’t take to the news kindly, he would spoil the lovely memory they were forming. Just in case there wouldn’t be another one, he chose not to say anything just yet. It was when they got home that he blurted out without giving himself room to overthink it, “I’m gay”. The way he threw the words out at her both reluctantly and forcefully, it was like someone was blackmailing this confession out of him. She was too stunned to speak for a second and his mind was racing with all the possible retorts she could next offer, conjured up by fear and his past hurt, each one worse than the previous scenario. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said when she finally spoke, touching his cheek softly, “honestly? I wish you weren’t. I can’t help it, I’m your mum and I wish you didn’t have another burden to carry. But don’t you dare doubt for one second that you are still my _beautiful_ boy,” she said that with more emotion and conviction than he allowed himself to hope for, “and I love you more than anything.” Aaron fell into her embrace, closing his eyes and simply treasuring the way that she pronounced ‘beautiful’, unintentionally elongated by emphasis and like she was somehow in awe and truly proud of him.

Sometimes Aaron was tired of the constant battle that his life with CF had amounted into, but whenever he thought of that precious moment with Chas, he knew with certainty that he’d never let her down by giving up. He might have toyed for a second in Dr. Jutla’s office with the idea of letting his time peacefully run out, but he couldn’t do that to his mum. A respiratory physiotherapist it was, then. 

He looked around the flat he had moved into as soon as he could and waited for the bloke to show up. To himself, Aaron had admitted that he was struggling quite a bit with the idea of opening his home to a complete stranger. This was the little piece of independence which he had earned and having no choice but to admit in someone he was totally unfamiliar with felt like he was giving a part of that away. Worse yet was the idea of having to submit his body to the sweaty kneading of this person. Aaron wasn’t the most physically affectionate of people at the best of times, only rarely agreeing to a hug from his mum, Paddy or Adam. Anyone else wasn’t even an option and that included quite a few relatives, people he had known his entire life and actually liked. If he tried to, he couldn’t picture himself liking that sort of physical interaction too much had he been healthy either, but he was sure the CF made him more reserved still. There was something about other people’s touch that made him too aware of his own body, failing and treacherous. He preferred not to have this additional reminder. That was a part of why coming out didn’t change Aaron’s dating profile by much. Sure, the idea of a romance was appealing, but the reality of one made him grimace to himself. It didn’t take him too long to come to the conclusion that celibacy might not sound great, but he was used to it already and internet access coupled with a box of tissues were enough to sort him. It was certainly better than the anxiety that the mere thought of being touched caused him on the few occasions when he had looked at a dating app. Any minute, the physiotherapist was supposed to show up and considering these reservations, Aaron still had no idea how he was going to get through the first session.

When it was becoming clear that the man was running late, Aaron couldn’t figure out how he felt. A part of him welcomed the possibility no one will show up at all and he’d be exempt of having to go through this ordeal. Another part kept coming back to the inevitability of these sessions and that having that day’s cancelled only meant Aaron would have to go through all of this anxiety again on another date, so it might be better to get it over with and not have to repeat this. The one thing he had no doubt about was his increasing irritation with the irresponsible twat who was assigned to him, who couldn’t just show up when he was supposed to.

When the doorbell finally rang, Aaron was ready to explode. He went over and opened the door, about to bite the man’s head off. It took less of a second to register that the guy standing on his threshold was gorgeous, which only pissed him off more. Of course the therapist would be, the universe would have that sick sense of humour at Aaron’s expense, after all.

“Cheers,” the man said with a smile so wide, he practically radiated with it.

“You’re late,” Aaron replied, having no intention of indulging this awful cheerfulness and apparent lack of remorse.

The man’s eyebrow rises, but his smile doesn’t falter. “I know, I’m sorry. There was an accident on the road from Hotten, so traffic was not...” the guy actually rolled his eyes, “nonexistent, like I was told it usually is.”

Aaron shrugged at this. He was not in a forgiving mood, despite recognising that an accident wouldn’t have been this man’s fault.

“I’m Robert, by the way,” the man at least had the decency not to attempt a handshake.

“Aaron.” It was stupid, Robert was sent to him as a carer and would know this already, but what else was there to say to that introduction?

“You’re in a right mood, aren’t you?” Robert continued to grin at him. “First time doing this and not much into it, ey?”

“What gave it away?” Aaron asked drily.

“Your chart, actually,” the therapist winked. “Speaking of which, I had a look through it and I’m pretty caught up on your medical history as recorded. Is there anything you believe I should know that isn’t included?”

Aaron pursed his lips together, turning down the corners of his mouth and shook his head to indicate there wasn’t anything like that.

“Right, then I think we can get to it. We only have an hour and I don’t want us to waste a minute more,” Robert declared, before he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “I’m only doing this until I make my first million, you know. And I’m sure you have better things to do with your time as well.”

His breath was warm and his big, bright eyes didn’t flinch for a split second from Aaron’s, like he was honestly curious to hear what his client likes spending his time on. Why was that suddenly difficult in a way completely different to earlier fears? Instead of being overcome by a desire to avoid all touch, a pang of want jabbed Aaron in the stomach. He was not over being angry, but now he was also weirdly intrigued, as well as confused. “The sofa and PEP device are over there,” he said and started walking in its direction.

It wasn’t a big sofa, but for their purposes, it would do. Aaron had prepared by covering it with a sheet and placing there several pillows they’d be able to move around for comfort. It was utterly wrong when he entertained the notion of what a completely different use he may end up needing one for.

“Yeah, this should do,” Robert said and Aaron nodded, sitting down on the sofa. “Right, do you wanna use this opportunity to take some of your antibiotics as well?”

He did and he couldn’t help but feel a little pleased that they were thinking similarly on this one. He next laid down on his back with his head on the biggest of the pillows. This was utterly ridiculous, he chided himself, having this kind of reaction to a good looking bloke when he was fairly uninterested in pursuing anything with anyone. This was nonsense and he was going to concentrate on making the most out of the physiotherapy. He looked up exactly when Robert was leaning down, all eye lashes and freckles and skin begging to be touched. Damn this.

“We’re going to start with something simple, alright? You’re going to use your PEP and I’m going to apply pressure to your chest to coincide with your breathing cycle. Whenever you need to cough, tap my hand and we’ll stop for as long as you need. If at any moment you feel discomfort, same. We stop and you tell me what’s wrong, we’ll figure out together how to correct it and we won’t continue until you’re good with it. Agreed?”

Aaron nodded. He couldn’t speak when those eyes were fixed on him. It wasn’t just how beautiful they were. It was the warmth in them, too. Even though the smile had already made way for professional earnestness, there was a sense of warmth in that gaze nonetheless. Foolish thought, this was how Robert must look at all of the client he was treating, but it tickled something inside Aaron’s chest all the same, a second before he felt the physiotherapist’s hands placed gently, carefully over the exact same spot. 

But Robert’s fingers are nothing less than fire where they touch. The tempo of Aaron inhaling and exhaling is a calm one, much like Robert’s tone when he talks them through the exercises. They have to pause here and there, interrupted by a cough, but Aaron is doing his best to hold those in for however long he can. His therapist notices and commends him for it, pointing out that the longer he can go between coughs, the more effective the exercise will prove to be. That’s not why Aaron does it, though. He’s stealing a few more seconds of looking up at Robert, of feeling the tender, yet firm pressure from the palms of his hands against him, strong and burning and comforting, he feels all of that at once and more than that and not enough. He _wants_. Aaron can’t help himself, he wants, the rational part of him gone, placed under a spell and rendered incapacitated. He wants more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life, which is saying something given his rich experience of wishing for seemingly impossible things. Robert fits into the category without a shred of a doubt. Despite how warm his eyes continue to be, in spite of how right his hands feel on Aaron, instigating a crave for that feeling on every patch of his body. Despite how there’s even a fleeting instant when Aaron wonders if his own flesh has a similar effect on his Robert. In a way, it was exactly the vulnerability caused by his disease that led him to spend hours at the gym, building up his chest muscles to an impressive girth. He even wants that, to believe his physiotherapist is unable himself to stay indifferent to the contact between them. But that’s madness, Aaron knows it is when that’s the only thing that this, whatever this is, could ever amount to: an impossibility.

The thin band of gold on Robert’s left hand makes that perfectly clear.

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~

Their first session is over, an hour that lasted forever, but was gone within a second. When Aaron reflects on it, he’s pretty sure he felt the little wedding ring through his shirt from the get go. Not enough to put out the fire that engulfed him, but it definitely was there, a small stripe of cold.

He doesn’t want to delve into it, prefers to distract himself from shiny things that he can never have. That tactic has worked quite well in the past. It wasn’t instantly, but eventually it did and he stopped praying for a healthy body, a happy childhood or a fair world. He learned to settle for what he had. It’s worked before, it will again.

Only he also hopes it won’t. As much as it would be easier to forget, it feels good to want. Why can’t he have at least that? Temporary permission to long for Robert, maybe for an afternoon or two before he has to bid this feeling goodbye. Maybe one quick and dirty hand job, before the smell of his hands fades away from Aaron’s shirt. Why can’t he permit his imagination to go a bit wild with what it would be like if he got to have Robert’s hands roaming all across his shirtless chest, all over his naked form, worshiping Aaron, forcing him to discover for once that despite all its shortcomings, there are very real pleasures that his body can provide him with? He wanks himself off to the thought of sucking Robert’s digits into his mouth, catching them both by surprise, but then refusing to let go. He’s masturbated countless times in the past, but when he comes now, it’s more intense than he can remember it’s ever been. He shakes so hard with it that he loses track of everything else, lying there and letting it all wash over him.

A phone call snaps him out of it. He quickly zips up his pants, even though it’s clear he can’t really be seen by the caller, and answers. The routine nature of it brings him down and the familiar voice on the other side of the line helps clear the haze. He feels wretchedly stupid, a drug addict coming out of a narcotic-induced hallucination. Maybe he’s scared, too. They’ve met no more than once, the man’s annoying and married. Robert shouldn’t hold such power over him.

“Yeah, I’ll be right over,” he promises before he hangs up. Looking for his flat key and jacket, he concludes he’s had his fill of fun. He’s gonna be better by their next appointment and his physiotherapy won’t suffer because of this. Several hours pass before Aaron registers that he went through the entire session without feeling the kind of discomfort he originally feared would keep him from being able to have more than a handful of meetings at most.

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~

Robert is gorgeous. That’s a fact of life that Aaron has to contend with. As it turns out, he’s also not as annoying as he initially appeared to be. He’s pretty punctual when he shows up for their next sessions. His smile doesn’t come across quite as smug as during their first meeting. He asks questions like he really cares and they’re not just about the effectiveness of the exercises. Sometimes he sounds fully professional, on other occasions he’s practically flirtatious, but no matter what, that warmth Aaron feels radiating from him never goes away. When Aaron is lying on the sofa, looking up while Robert is leaning down, entrusting his body to his touch, his well being to his care, it’s all but smoldering. And throughout it all, despite his reservations and skepticism, Aaron has to admit that the daily physiotherapy sessions are improving his condition. Robert is helping him breathe.

They got to talking about his personal life, too. Robert started it, really. He asked about who’s helping Aaron and that conversation was only meant to be a simple mention of Chas, but then it unexpectedly evolved. As it turned out, it wasn’t so easy to mention Paddy and not get into more details that helped explain who he is and why and how he means so much. At least, that’s the way it went when someone was sincerely interested in hearing more about it and presented an unassuming string of questions which helped talking about those sensitive issues. Two or three sessions later and Robert knew everything about the major hurts that Aaron had collected along his path.

He has this mischievous glint in his eyes, Aaron’s noticed, whenever he’s about to ask something personal, as if hearing more about yet another client of his is nothing less than a prize which Robert is managing to win when he’s not supposed to. Then when he’s listening to the answers, it gradually slips away and his expression transforms into something softer. On occasion, he even offers a few bits of information about himself too, like stories about his siblings. When he opens up a little more about the circumstances of his mother’s death and his adopted brother’s complicity in that, how it led Robert away from Emmerdale and he ended up settling in Hotten, of all places, Aaron is oddly moved. It’s not just that he wishes he could have hugged young Robert, assure him that things would get better for him, even if it would take years for that to come about. It’s also that he’s allowed a peak beneath the cheery facade this man walked into his flat with. Aaron’s sure his physiotherapist has shared these stories with other clients before him, but it still gets under his skin. These interactions, it appears to be a reasonable assumption that they are what makes this guy a good therapist, his ability to convince his clients that he really cares and values gaining an insight into their lives even though it has less to do with the physical aspect of his work and Aaron does admire him for it. 

Robert’s got that rascal expression on once again, looking ready to pounce Aaron with another question while they stand in the kitchen, waiting for the brew to be ready. It’s just a part of his job, Aaron reminds himself, but he can’t avoid the sense of being pleased by Robert’s interest as he amusedly braces himself for the incoming inquiry. They’ve been discussing his social life, he recounted a few anecdotes from his friendship with Adam and he expects to be asked about that huge doofus a bit more.

“So, is there a bird that’s caught your fancy?” Robert asks, closing the gap between them a little.

For whatever reason, Aaron wasn’t ready for this question. It might be a natural progression when exchanging information, but he honestly didn’t expect to be asked something along these lines. Maybe because it was too close for comfort, or because it carried with it the potential of a threat, in more ways than one, he ended up choosing to ignore that this might come up. He certainly didn’t anticipate it at this point and that gives rise to a suspicion in his mind over why Robert was asking him about this just then.

“It isn’t any of your business, mate,” he answers, trying to infuse his voice with bite, to cover up for everything else he’s feeling.

“It’s alright,” Robert isn’t backing down, “you’re allowed to fancy whoever and I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah?” Aaron asks, his anger growing dangerously. “That’s quite big of you, only everyone that matters already knows I’m gay.”

Those hands he’s come to know so intimately rise almost of their own accord in a defensive gesture to match Robert’s stunned expression. “Whoa there, no need to get mad, I were only teasing, I didn’t mean..."

“What, you didn’t stop to consider that option? Or did you guess and wanted to humiliate me by dragging it outta me? Wanna tell me I’m a freak of nature or some such, ey? Or ya gonna calm me down, tell me that I can like whoever ‘cause no one’ll fancy me back anyhow and I’m too pathetic for an actual relationship, is that it?”

“Hey, I didn’t say..."

“No, you didn’t need to say, pal. You better be off then, before I decide to call someone to make a complaint about homophobia displayed during treatment.” Robert’s face is overtaken by a horrible paleness the way it contorts enhances the nausea Aaron was already feeling. He wants nothing more than to have this over with. “Just do one. Now.” He walks over to the door and opens it wide to make his point.

Robert starts to recover, his features smooth over as he takes a couple of steps in that direction. “D’ya even stop to take into account you might be making a massive mistake?” 

Aaron shrugs and figures there must be some choice words that the man’s holding back as Robert looks at him searchingly. Whichever conclusions he draws from that, he’s out the door the next moment and Aaron can close it behind him. ‘Good riddance’, he’s meant to say to himself, but it’s distinctly not how he feels.

He wonders how long it will take him before he can forget what Robert’s eyes look like when they’re completely devoid of any warmth.

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~

It’s the third morning since Aaron’s called the clinic to cancel all of his appointments with Robert and this one starts with a coughing fit as well. “I don’t like the sound of that,” Dr. Jutla says over the phone in response to hearing him struggle for air. His worried mum on her end and the clinic on theirs had both contacted her and as soon as she could, she called him up. That supplied her with further testament to the quick deterioration he’s been experiencing with his breathing. 

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” he tries to tell her, but it isn’t lost on him that his laboured speech contradicts his expressed sentiment.

“Of course you are,” she says, her professional tone not quite covering up her sarcasm. “Can you tell me what the issue was with the physiotherapist you were assigned? I was under the impression that things were working out well?”

They were, he agrees inwardly with sorrow. Or so he believed. But if that would have been true, Robert wouldn’t have mocked him like he had the other day. With a bit more distance from what had happened, Aaron is not above admitting that he might have overreacted to a degree. At least in his own head he can own up to that, out loud is a different matter. The homophobia accusation was out of order, he supposes, since it was based on a hunch and an assumption more than on anything else and he can see that now. The mocking, however, wasn’t. There was no way Robert hadn’t made out that Aaron’s romantic status was a pitiful one and that to question him about it with that sort of gleeful attitude _was_ mockery. The seething hurt at the pit of Aaron’s stomach conveyed that enough for him to know he couldn’t go on being treated by Robert, so he had to cancel all of their appointments.

He swallows around the bitter taste that the necessary decision left in his mouth. To not see Robert again. If the physiotherapist was the one in the wrong, why is it that Aaron is the one left feeling like he’s being punished? Things between them were off to a good start and for once in his life, he was close to having something precious of his own. Even if he was just a client, his tentative relationship with Robert woke up a part of him he hadn’t realised was dormant. The man mattered to him and brought Aaron closer to feeling like a regular bloke than anything else he’s had until that point. It’s only been three days, but he already misses it, all of it. The way he felt that he was coming alive under Robert’s touch and gaze, how good talking to the man made Aaron feel about himself, even the fact that the treatment seemed to be more efficient than a skeptic like himself had expected.

“Aaron?” Dr. Jutla needs an answer. 

If he tells her his suspicion, that Robert might have guessed his celibate status had something to do with a different sexual orientation, she’d be horrified on his behalf. She’d stop badgering him about this issue and let him move on. She’d call the clinic and have Robert punished, possibly even fired from his job. He won’t get to flirt with clients to buy their trust, nor lay a trap for them to mock them later on.

“Yeah, it just wasn’t the right fit. It took me a minute to catch on.” Aaron’s lungs do their best, but he’s wheezing his way through the sentence and it’s the best he can do.

“Not the right fit? Aaron, I can’t pretend to accept that vague explanation, but I understand you don’t want to tell me what happened. Well, I’m your doctor and it’s important that I be informed,” she says firmly, but the following sentence is slightly softer in tone, maybe without intending to be. “On the other hand, I can hear you’re having difficulties speaking and I don’t want you to make too much of an effort. I also imagine this feels like an interrogation when it isn’t and shouldn’t be. You’re supposed to be willingly filling me in. Aaron, anything can have an effect on your wellbeing, by which I don’t mean strictly your lungs. I can’t correctly assess if this is one of those things without you telling me the truth. So I’ll leave you be on this subject, at least until we see an improvement in your condition. But once we get there, I hope there are no doubts, I expect you to give me the real answer to my question which I need in order to do my job and help you. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” he feels oddly defeated, but also grateful that he has her caring, plus a temporary reprieve.

“Good, I’m glad. Until then, you can’t continue without respiratory physiotherapy. You need it and immediately. My suggestion is that I call the clinic and use my pull there to reinstate all of your cancelled appointments, but with another physiotherapist. Acceptable?”

She’s right, he knows it, but he still finds that he’s reluctant to agree. The memory of Robert leaning over him floods his mind along with the sensations he had when they were physically connected where the man’s hands burnt through a thin layer of cloth into his flesh, excited it, soothed it, awakened Aaron, took his breath away while pressing down to help oxygen flow in. How does one let go of that?

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~

Aaron gets off the bus in Hotten, too unfocused to take in his surroundings as he walks the well memorised route to his destination. His feet take him there of their own accord, through the automatic doors and the lobby entrance, where he nods at the guard. He’s arrived later than he intended to be there, but his mobile hasn’t rung and there was no other indication that anyone has tried to contact him. He goes right into the locker room and begins changing his attire. It’s a good thing he’s got a way of distracting himself. He hopes the day will turn out to be an eventful one, he’d welcome the respite from being trapped in his own head and the doubts gnawing at him over that one text message he’d sent out earlier.

Adam is already there, prepared and grinning at him. “You alright, mate? Ready for this?”

“Yeah,” Aaron replies absentmindedly as he takes his shirt off. He hesitates on whether to pose a question regarding what he wants to find out. It’s not something that he’d usually clue anyone in on, his best friend least of all, but this time he’s compelled to. “Has anyone come ‘round here to see me?”

“To see ya?” Adam’s expression, a mix of surprise and nosy, delighted curiosity, is exactly why Aaron was loathe to say anything. “No one’s been here asking for you. Why, who’s supposed to come and see you?”

Aaron shakes his head in exasperation and annoyance. “No one, forget it.” He shifts his attention back to the clothes he’s putting on and hopes that would put an end to it.

“Nah, mate... there’s something you’re not telling me? Me, your best pal in the whole wide world? I’m hurt. Don’t you trust me?” 

Aaron carries on with his task, doing his best to ignore Adam, who is clearly more incessant than hurt. Why couldn’t he have had a less ridiculous bloke for a best friend? Or at least one with a basic understanding of boundaries and the tact to take the hint and respect it?

“Did you hear that!?” Adam exclaims so suddenly that it forces Aaron to snap his head around in his direction, only to take in the sight of Barton melodramatically placing his hands over his own chest. “It’s the sound of my heart breaking over your lack of trust, is what it is. C’mon, you really gonna leave me hanging here without an answer?”

Aaron turns his gaze back to his own locker, placing the last of the possessions he won’t need for the upcoming hours in it. “Life’s a bitch... and then you die.” He’s said this before, not too often, but when he’s felt particularly grumpy. He means it more than ever today and does his best to ignore the barrage of protests and attempts to sway his position which Adam fires his way in favour of mulling over what he had just learned. No one’s come looking for him. His text message went unanswered. He decides that’s fine. He knew that might be the result and if he doesn’t like it, he’s simply gonna have to take responsibility for his rash stupidity and tough this out.

He puts the few things he does need - mobile phone, keys, including the one to his locker - in the pocket of his trousers and turns back to Adam without meeting his eyes. “Let’s go,” Aaron lets out as he leaves the locker room with Barton following closely in his wake, for once keeping quiet and settling for glancing sideways in his direction.

They exit the building through the side doors and spot their assigned vehicle in the parking lot. Walking over to it, they maintain their tense silence. Aaron feels bad about it, but not enough to break it. He prefers it over having to explain himself.

They’re almost there when they hear a shout coming from behind them. “Oi!” It’s Robert’s voice and it pierces Aaron right through the heart to hear him shout, recognising the sound so instinctively and feeling it like the ghost of a chest imprint left by Robert’s hands. He jogs up to the two of them as they turn to him and maybe it’s just a cruel trick of memory and desire, but he’s somehow even more gorgeous than before. “You’re alright?” he asks and it comes out urgent, but also surprised and confused. “You said to meet you at this hospital, I was sure something bad has happened to you..."

“Is that why you didn’t call me? I thought you weren’t showing up.”

“I came as fast as I could, went right over to A & E. No one had any information about a patient with your name. I was freaking out there, to be honest. I started yelling that I’d never seen such incompetence and I was about to promise I’d make sure they’d never work again when one of a few nurses who heard all the noise and came over pointed out that she knew a Red Cross volunteer medic by that name.”

The front ambulance door swings open and Lydia, their driver for the shift, chastises them. “I don’t mean to rush ya, but you should be legging it here. We could get our first call in at any moment.”

“Yeah,” Aaron replies, “we’re coming and I’m bringing a guest.” He motions with his head for Robert to follow while he drags Adam along into the vehicle. Thankfully Barton is too floored to do anything other than make puzzled faces meant to convey that he’s gonna want the entire story later on, with as many details as possible. Aaron ignores that and straightens his back a bit more than he usually does, hoping the RC medic uniform is doing his physique a bit of justice. He shoves Adam towards the seat by the driver and climbs into the back, together with Robert.

“Is this not against protocol?” Lydia’s whisper to Adam is loud enough, despite her attempt at discretion, for Aaron to hear.

“Normally, but I have special permission today. This is my respiratory physiotherapist,” he informs her, “he needs to see what I do here to better understand how he can help me.”

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~

Two hours later, Lydia makes a stop by Aaron’s flat. He’ll go back to pick up his stuff from his locker another day, he reassured her when he requested this unconventional drop off. What he didn’t mention was that going back to the locker room inevitably meant dealing with Adam’s interrogation and that was not an option today. Not when there was something else coming up that would require all of his strength. He didn’t have much of that left as it was, not after this shift. As it turned out, his wish for an eventful day was fulfilled. It wasn’t anything major, nothing above his and Adam’s ability to help with, but a minor accident on the Hotten bypass, two home injuries and a medical emergency at a shopping centre where a cancer patient had fainted were more than they had to handle during most shifts.

He unlocks the door to his flat and lets Robert in. The adrenaline that courses through Aaron during his volunteer work and helps him complete it has begun wearing off already and he heads for the sofa as soon as the door’s locked behind them. He lays down on it and almost instantly, Robert is by his side, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to the sofa. He looks like he desperately wants to speak, but can’t. A little boy, lost and in awe at the same time. It’s easy to let go of any lingering anger and want to hug him, way too damn easy. That impulse and the temptation to start the conversation must be resisted. Robert’s not getting off the hook that easily.

“Well, that was a rush, weren’t it?” An obvious statement to break the silence with. It’ll do.

Aaron does his best to shrug while lying down. “It was routine, nothing more.”

Robert sits up slightly. “But it was still important enough for you that I witness it.”

“It’s gonna be harder for you to see me as oh so pathetic and useless now, won’t it?”

“Aaron, I never did.” Everything about Robert’s efforts at honest innocence is far too persuasive. “I’m still not sure how you got that idea stuck in your thick head.”

“Is that why you dashed like crazy to the hospital today? Because you _don’t_ see me as a weakling?” Aaron tended towards the cynical, but he never realised he had a good amount of harsh sarcasm in him, as well.

“I was terrified for you, yeah. I’m not gonna apologise for that, you idiot. I’ve been checking up on your treatment at the clinic and I know you didn’t reschedule any of your appointments with another therapist. How am I supposed to not worry when I’m aware of that? I contacted Dr. Jutla and she told me it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to try and convince you to try again with someone else. She’s rightly reminded me that you’re as stubborn as a mule.”

“You talked to her?” All of that effort that Robert didn’t have to make once their appointments were over... for Aaron? Why?

“Of course I did. You can’t go on without daily sessions, you know that, right?”

“She might have mentioned that.”

“Aaron, please. I get that I let you down when I used your treatment to try and find out if you’re available, but you can’t harm yourself because I ruined your faith in physiotherapy. I promise, the clinic can find you someone else to continue your sessions with and practically any other therapist is going to restore your trust as a clent. They’ll be one hundred percent professional, whoever is assigned to you next.”

He babbles on, but Aaron doesn’t really listen to most of that, having been caught off by what he guesses was an unintended confession. “Wait, you what? If I’m available?”

Robert blushes and his voice, which was raw and earnest in his attempt to be convincing, grows smaller, more closed off. It’s as if he didn’t register while he was talking how vulnerable he was making himself by putting the truth out there and making admissions he wasn’t supposed to. His next words have notes of strain in them and the colour never leaves his cheeks. “You’re not some pathetic nobody. I’ve never seen you like that. I’ve met a lot of people who’ve had to deal with more shit than anyone should. And somehow, you’re still the strongest person I know. It’s something about your attitude, the way you never seek to make things easy for yourself, you just want things to be right and... you take my breath away.” It’s clear he doesn’t want to say these words, but in a way, that makes them come across as even more sincere. “I shouldn’t wanna ask you out, I shouldn’t have used our sessions to pry into your dating status, but I did and that hurt you. I’m sorry, I really am.”

Aaron’s limbs, which felt heavy and sagging but a few minutes ago, are refilled with energy and they move him into a sitting position to confront Robert without him giving it a single thought. He searches the man’s face for any sign of hidden malice or covert mockery. He doesn’t find any, only that the colour of those bright eyes is deeper than ever and is pulling him in.

“Ask me out? How can you do that if you’re married?”

“I’m…” Robert looks stunned for a second, then he holds his hands up. They’re completely bare. “You mean my wedding ring?” The skin is a little paler where it used to be. 

Aaron frowns. “You took it off?”

“Yeah. That was long overdue, you helped me realise that. My wife, Chrissie... my ex wife. She was gorgeous. And smart, rich and driven. Everything I always thought I’m meant to want. She wasn’t very forgiving, though. She ran into this bloke I used to fool around with and that’s how she found out I’m bisexual and hadn’t told her before our wedding. I think it wounded her pride to find out there was something other people were aware of about me that she wasn’t. Told me she could never have faith in me again if I was capable of hiding from her a part of who I am. She filed for divorce, but I didn’t want to accept that. It felt like too much of a failure, to have my marriage be over because of a small, insignificant issue.”

“She didn’t get how difficult it is to own up to a part of yourself that you don’t like. And you didn’t want to admit that part of you is significant.”

Robert’s eyes were cast downwards and he seemed caught up in reliving his tale, but at this, he looks up at Aaron. “That’s exactly right.”

“But if that’s where you are, how could you think of asking me out? I’m connected to that part of who you are that you don’t like.”

That was met with a head shake. “That’s what it would seem like, wouldn’t it? I’ve wanted to be with guys before and I always hated myself for that. And I never liked them. Their bodies maybe, but that was it. Not now, though, not with you, Aaron. I _like_ you. I more than like you. Do you know how hard it’s been to touch you and hold back? To lean over you, look down at your lips and not kiss you? I probably should be more ashamed of myself than I was about any of those other blokes, but... I’m not. You’re the best person I know, so if there’s a part of me that wants ya... I think it might be the best part of me.”

Aaron closes his eyes and reopens them. And this was the man he threatened with accusations of homophobia, he thinks to himself. He looks at the spot where Robert’s hands have been dropped back onto his knees, as motionless as he sounds hopeless with his confession. He isn’t trying to gain anything here. He’s perplexed and apologetic and trying to make sense of his world shifting on its axis. There are so many ways in which they both have been wrong, about and for each other. Aaron’s done with that now. He’s gonna be that brave man Robert believes him to be. He’ll go with his gut on what’s right and shut out everything else. He picks up one of those hands that has driven him near crazy, lightly squeezes it in his own, lets himself feel it as he brings it to his lips and kisses it with great care. He looks up to meet Robert’s gaze, full of wonder. He smiles at it and slowly, because admissions don’t come naturally to him either, he shares, “I couldn’t agree to anyone else being my therapist, no matter how much pressure they put on me to do that. I want you, and only you. You’re the only one who can help me breathe.” He leans forward and Robert, who looks like he’s moving without even fully processing what’s going on, meets him halfway for a scorching kiss.


End file.
